February Friends, Lovers, and Others
by GalaxieGurl
Summary: A series of one-shots depicting relationships between various Bones characters set against the backdrop of unique February holidays as part of the Ficalicious February writing challenge.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 Groundhog Day

As the movie paused for yet another commercial break, Booth stood up to stretch his legs and refill the popcorn bowl. Christine looked up at her dad and grinned.

"That poor man is having the worst time, Dad! Going through the same day over and over again. This movie isn't logical at all!"

 _Like mother, like daughter_ , Booth thought to himself with a smirk. He remembered Brennan making roughly the same comment the first time he'd gotten her to watch "Groundhog Day" with him several years after they became partners.

"Booth, this movie plot makes no sense," she'd complained a half hour into it. "Why would someone script a film just to repeat a day ad nauseam?'

"Bones, you gotta have a little patience and give it time," the agent chided. "Eventually you'll see the point, just like he does."

His partner had proceeded to deliver a lecture on the illogical irrational nature of Groundhog Day as a holiday, and the utter lack of scientific evidence supporting its furry patron saint's method of weather prediction. Nevertheless, the movie had become a standing joke between them, which they frequently watched together while completing case paperwork. It was humorous enough to make them chuckle together, and so familiar they could quote the script from memory. This led to much shared laughter between the pair.

As Booth pressed the air popper's 'on' button, he called to his daughter "Hit the pause button, Chrissy, and bring me our glasses; the popper will take a few more minutes to finish its cycle than the ads."

He opened the refrigerator, replenished the ice in the tumblers his fourteen-year old placed on the counter, and poured more Pepsi into each.

"Don't tell your mom we've drunk this much pop," he cautioned.

"Somehow she always knows, no matter how sneaky I try to be," Christine remarked.

"Bones has grizzly bear protective instincts," Booth told her. "She's just trying to keep us healthy, in spite of our sugar consumption. No fun sometimes, but she means well."

"Whenever it's my turn to bring Girl Scout treats, she always sends apple slices and peanut butter," Christine agreed.

"Okay, snacks refilled!" Booth declared. "Let's get back to the movie."

Brennan was teaching her evening class at American University, and Hank was working on a salt map project with his friend Bradley. The parents took turns overseeing the partner Geography class assignments Ms. Hannigan handed out, and this time it was the Monahan's time to deal with a messy kitchen table until the boys completed their work.

So Booth had decided to share a movie evening with his little girl, knowing that his chances to do so would likely diminish the further into adolescence she grew. She plopped down on the couch beside him and stretched her legs out on the coffee table in front of them. Brennan always frowned at this father-daughter habit, but tolerated it as long as their shoes had been removed first.

By the time the pair had munched their way through the rest of the film, Christine had grasped its point. Phil had come to love the quirks of small town life in Punxsutawney, developed tolerance putting up with Ned Ryerson's annoying mannerisms, become an excellent pianist, and fallen for his film producer Rita who was delighted to pursue a relationship with him. Learning patience was a tough thing to do, but it brought fulfilling rewards.

"Maybe the next time we go visit Grams and Pops for Memorial Day, we could check out Punxsutawney," she suggested to her father.

"It's about 4 hrs from Philly, honey, in the opposite direction. And the groundhogs aren't active in the heat of summer," Booth replied.

The two of them had a fun tradition of conjuring up fantasy trips to take for family vacations, based upon things that happened during the year. Each summer Booth took his kids to some of the cemeteries where their veteran ancestors rested, to honor their service. They couldn't cover all the cities in one weekend so they split the locations between Memorial Day and the Fourth of July.

Booth leaned back against the sofa, put his arm around Christine's shoulders and pulled her into a hug. "Do you have any idea how much I love you, Girlie?" he asked softly.

"Almost as much as I love you, Daddy," she replied, kissing his cheek.


	2. Chapter 2

Flowers for Dr. Bones

If anyone had asked Parker Booth who his hero was (which at age 8, they hadn't), he would've proudly proclaimed, "my dad!" More than anything else, he admired how his father was unfailingly considerate of other people around him. This didn't mean that there weren't times he 'lowered the boom' on people who deserved it, as Great-GrandPops said. Like the bad guys he and Dr. Bones caught.

Parker wasn't privy to the details of his father's work, since Booth and Rebecca were careful what he heard, but he _knew_ that his daddy was definitely one of the best good guys around. The boy carefully observed everything his father did, and tried to emulate his actions as much as possible. Like standing up for Tommy Harris on the playground when Greg Fenton tried to swipe his lunch money.

With Valentine's Day approaching, Parker had a quandary. How to afford gifts for two girls on his small allowance? Parker was an observant child, and knew that flowers don't come cheap from listening to the 1-800 Flower commercials on the radio when his mom drove him to school each morning. Same for those Shari's Berries that sounded so tasty, which he knew his mother would love. He wished he could afford to buy a book for Dr. Bones; they shared a love of reading and although her apartment was filled with books, a person could never own enough good books! But even the Scholastic paperback books his parents allowed him to buy occasionally at the school book fair cost more than he had managed to garner.

He had been saving his money since Christmas, except for the small amount his dad expected him to give at church each Sunday. But 85 cents a week just doesn't accumulate very quickly, and he only had $8.40, even counting the $5 Santa Claus had left in his stocking. So he consulted the one person whose advice he valued most: his father.

Booth had taken him to Beltway Burgers for lunch on the last Saturday of January, when Parker decided to broach this important question. His dad listened seriously, concealing a strong internal urge to grin broadly over his son's generous motivations.

"Don't buy me a milk shake this week, Dad; I'll just drink water. I'm trying to save some money. I wanna give Mom and Dr. Bones both something for Valentine's Day, Dad. But what can I buy that's worth anything for $8?"

Booth thought a moment, then suggested they do a little shopping once their burgers and fries were consumed. He made sure Parker was buckled in, then started the SUV and headed for the Columbia Heights Farmers' Market. The place wasn't normally open in January, but the weather in the nation's capital had been unseasonably warm, and one of the Christmas tree vendors Booth had gotten to know had an apartment nearby. He thought the market might possibly be open, but the canvas canopies were folded; the empty stalls stood silent. He pulled into a parking spot, turned off the engine, and pulled his phone from his pocket to call his friend.

"Hey, Marvin, how ya doin'? Me? Pretty good. Yeah, my Pops is feelin' okay lately. How's your little girl; over the flu? That's good to hear! Are you in town this weekend?"

The other man talked for a few minutes, then Booth spoke again.

"I'm wonderin' if you can help me with a problem? My son and I need some fresh flowers for Valentine's Day, and we're working with a limited budget. You have any ideas or suggestions?"

Parker was quiet, listening carefully to his father's conversation. He couldn't make out the other man's replies, but his dad's smile widened, and he thanked his friend before ending the call.

"Well, Bub, it looks like we're in luck. Mr. Vaughn says the market should be open the week before Valentine's Day if this weather holds, offering candy, apples, and craft items for sale."

"That's nice, Dad, but not what I need for Mom and Dr. Bones," Parker told his father.

"True, I thought you might say that. Marvin tells me that his cousin's crop of spring flowers is doing pretty well in a greenhouse out in Clinton. He works Pale Blue Dot Farm with several partners and they have tulips and daffodils growing right now to be ready for Easter. Mr. Vaughn said if we drive out there in a couple of weeks, he can sell us some early flowers for Valentine's Day. It's about 15 miles southeast of here, but I don't think that's too far to go to please your mom and Bones, do you?"

"But, Dad, what about the price? Can I get enough flowers for both of them with the money I have?"

"That's the nice thing about going to the source, Sport. If we are willing to drive out to their farm, Mr. Vaughn will sell you the flowers at wholesale, which is just above his cost. We save him the time, trouble, and gas to bring the flowers into D.C., and he will save you some money."

"So ya think I should buy tulips for Mom and daffadils for Dr. Bones?"

"Let's wait and see what looks the freshest when we get out to the farm. They nearly always have daisies as well, and most ladies like those, so you can choose what appeals to you then, Parks."

"Do you have time to drive all that way?"

"Sure, kiddo, it's only 15 miles out; maybe a half-hour drive," Booth assured him.

His son wriggled against his booster seat.

Whatsa matter, Parker? You got ants in your pants?"

"No, Dad, I need outta this seatbelt to hug you; you're the best! You always help me out of a pickle!"

Then he stopped, as a thought struck him.

"How much will it cost? Is $8 enough?"

"If you ask for the prices up front and choose wisely, I think we can make it work, Son," Booth assured him. "Mr. Vaughn knows his plants; we can ask his advice on what would look best and last longest for the money you have to spend. He's never steered me wrong on bouquets when I needed one."

Bbbbbbbbbbbbbb

Two weeks later, the Booth boys spent an enjoyable morning wandering through the moist warm greenhouses at Blue Dot Farm. Mrs. Vaughn served them fresh apple cider and Parker pushed their three-year-old daughter Annie in her rope swing in the small orchard on the property. They left carrying a sizeable bunch of daisies, tulips, and daffodils, the stems wrapped in wet paper towels for the trip home, the whole bouquet tented in green floral paper to block the chilly wind.

Once they were back at Booth's apartment, he opened the cabinet door under his sink. Parker got down on his haunches to select two vases from the odd collection his dad had amassed over the last several years. He bought them from dollar stores, garage sales, and flea markets when he spotted one he liked. Pops had shared this trick for impressing his high school dates while operating on a paper-boy's budget. Grams had chuckled from the kitchen, knowing her husband's secret for presenting her with flowers through their years of marriage.

Parker spent considerable time at the kitchen table that afternoon, drawing and coloring on construction paper to make Valentine cards for his mother and Dr. Bones. He offered to let Booth sign the cards, but his dad demurred.

"This operation was all your idea, Parker. You need to take credit for giving Bones and your mom such nice Valentine's remembrances."

Brennan had been invited to share a spaghetti dinner-Marvel Avengers movie evening at Booth's apartment. She arrived with a casserole dish of nutmeg macaroni and cheese to add to their meal. Both guys inhaled appreciatively and grinned identical smiles at their guest.

"That smells heavenly, Bones!"

"Yummy! Let's dig in!"

"Parker, go wash your hands first."

"Dad, I already did; to set the table!"

"Oh, right, how could I forget?" Booth laughed as he filled three plates with pasta, sauce, grated Parmesan, and put them on each placemat.

Brennan scooped out a generous serving of mac and cheese for each of them, then waited while the Booth men said grace.

In the middle of the table sat a glass vase filled with daisies and daffodils.

"Booth, the flowers on your table are lovely. Where did you find them so early in the season?" she asked.

"Don't look at me, Bones; that bouquet is all Parker's doing!"

"Well, you chose very well, Parker. These blossoms are fresh and vibrantly colored. They look exceptionally healthy!" Brennan complimented the boy.

Parker beamed with happiness, then glanced at his dad.

"Can I show her it now? Please? Do I hafta wait til after dinner?"

Booth smiled indulgently, and agreed. "Yes, certainly. Go get it from your room, Parks."

As he ran off down the hall, Brennan looked at Booth in confusion. "What's Parker talking about?"

"Just wait a minute, Bones; you'll see."

Parker returned, a bit out of breath, and flushed with excitement. He handed Brennan a homemade Scotch-taped envelope bearing her name in crayoned capital letters "Dr. Bones".

She accepted it with a smile, and waited for him to sit down.

"Should I open this now, or after we eat?"

"Now, Now!" Parker burst out.

"Hey, Bub, inside voice, please," Booth chided gently.

"Dr. Bones, I've been waitin' ALL day to give you this! Please, open it now!"

Brennan gave him a happy grin, and slid her finger under the tape to open the crookedly-folded construction paper envelope.

The pink card inside bore a laboriously-colored large red heart and the words "Happy Hearts Day to the best scientist I know."

Brennan opened the card to read, "Dear Dr. Bones, Thank you for being my friend. I hope you enjoy these flowers. Love from your friend, Parker Booth."

She rose from her chair, stepped around the table, and hugged Booth's son, kissing the top of his head, while smiling at his proud father.

"Thank you, Parker, that's the best Valentine's gift I've ever received! The flowers are beautiful!"

Her twinkling eyes conveyed a slightly different message to Booth, and he grinned back in understanding. His son's thoughtful gift really was a sumptuous gesture in light of the savings and effort invested in providing it.

Sitting back down, Brennan asked, "I'm touched and grateful for your gift, Parker! Can we eat now? I'm really hungry!"

Parker agreed readily. "You get, Dr. Bones; I'm _starving_ too!"

Several hours later, after slices of cherry pie and cheesecake from the diner, Booth and Parker walked Brennan to her car, then returned upstairs for bed.

bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb

The next afternoon, when he drove his son back to Rebecca's house, Booth waited in the car while Parker went up to the front door, and hugged his mom when she opened it. Turning back, he waved to his dad to come in and Rebecca nodded with an indulgent smile. Booth followed his son, concealing the vase of brightly colored tulips behind his back.

Once they were inside, Parker insisted his mom sit on the sofa and handed her a card very similar to the one he had given to Brennan. Then he grinned at Booth and ducked behind his much taller father to grasp the vase of flowers. As Rebecca opened her card, he placed it on the coffee table in front of her.

"Parker, these tulips are lovely," she said with a catch in her voice and a glance up at Booth.

She pulled out the handmade card and read it silently before engulfing her little boy in a bear hug.

"Mom, I can't breathe," Parker gasped after a few moments. Rebecca loosened her arms, releasing him as she laughed softly and wiped her eyes.

"These are my favorite shades of pink, lavender, and white, Honey. How did you know?"

"Dad helped me with the colors but I paid for them myself," Parker declared proudly. At this, Booth slipped his hand inside his coat and withdrew a small box of his ex's favorite candies, which he handed to her.

"Seeley, you didn't have to do that," she protested after opening the lid and popping one of the pralines into her mouth.

"Caroline recommended the shop where I bought them, Savannah Candy Kitchen in National Harbour, Becs. She said short of driving 8 hours, these are the best pralines around," he replied with one of his smiles that still melted her heart.

"And as far as needing to do something nice for you occasionally; you and I might have our differences and disagreements from time to time, but you are the best mother I could ever hope for Parker to have, and I'm very grateful for that," Booth replied simply.

"Thanks, Seels," she said softly. Rising to her feet, she walked over and gave him a hug, reminding him, "I meant what I said at your office when I brought you those T-ball sign-up papers; you _are_ a very good father, and Parker is a lucky kid."

Booth felt his cheeks flush, and saw Parker grinning like a Cheshire Cat. "We've got a mutual admiration society goin' on around here, don't we? Whaddya say, the three of us go out for pizza before I head home? My treat!"

Parker wrapped his arms as far as he could reach around the two of them. "I am lucky!" he said. "Billy Martin's parents won't even speak to each other!"

Rebecca smiled down at him. "It won't be long 'til you're as tall as I am, Parker Booth. I'll agree to the pizza on the condition that you let me pay. I won my big case last month, and the partners gave me a bonus," she told Booth.

"Sounds good to me! Is Brent due back soon or still out of town?"

"Nope, he's gone to Atlanta until Wednesday. Let's get a move on; we still have to review your states and capitals before bedtime, Parker."

"Pizza Hut, here we come!" their son exclaimed.


	3. Chapter 3

Alcohol and Apple Pie

 **A/N: This chapter is a bit strange and off-the-wall, but the idea for it occurred to me while reading FaithinBones' posted story this morning, and this is what my brain concocted.**

Having finished the day's exercise regimen, he slumped on the exercise bike in Booth's garage. In spite of efforts to pep-talk himself and knowing he shouldn't be, Jared was feeling down; dejected and depressed. His recovery from injuries sustained when his car nose-dived into a tree after his last over-indulgence session at the Legislators' Lounge was going as well as could be expected for someone who'd fractured both tibia and femur. He was finally out of the torturously exasperating ankle-to-hip length cast, but his PT was increasingly painful as he strove to regain full use of his leg. He was exhausted from the workout his therapist had put him through. Despite the crisp February morning, he was hot, sweaty, and bone-tired. He had months to go before his leg would be back to anything approaching normal.

Jared knew he had no reason for complaint; Seeley and Tempe had been more than generous allowing him to recuperate in their home, and Max had been kindly non-judgmental most of the time assisting him during the day. His brother had relinquished credit for a RICO bust to save him from prosecution and jail time. Despite his guilty conscience hollering louder than his need for a drink, getting sober was the hardest thing he'd ever done; much more difficult than he'd ever imagined.

Why had his old man ever become a drunk, and beat the tar out of his wife and kids in retaliation for whatever demons he brought home from Vietnam? Without that terrible example of wanton manhood, Jared doubted he would ever have begun drinking. His brother might have a gambling addiction, but at least he wasn't a drunk. Rolling dice didn't wreck cars or alienate loved ones, like Padme. His estranged wife hadn't even come to the hospital to check on him. What had he and Seeley ever done as kids to deserve their mother's complete abandonment?

His brother was right. If it hadn't been for Pops and Grams, who knows where the two of them would have ended up? He was well aware that Seeley had repeatedly shielded him from the worst of their father's wrath after Marianne's departure and contemplated suicide from the strain of Edwin's beatings. Had their birth order been reversed, Jared doubted that he would have been as protective an elder brother.

Yeah, he was smart, just as Booth was, but he'd never worked as hard as Seeley. He had gotten by on good looks, glib talk, and minimal effort in high school and the navy. School work came easily, girls flocked to him like gulls to the seashore, and he was blessed with athletic talent. From childhood, swimming and ease in the water had been so second-nature, he'd seriously considered becoming a SEAL. But in the end, a whiz at video games and computers, he'd opted for intelligence work and cyber security as his NOS. With notable success and ample recognition, he had just been promoted to Lieutenant Commander, posted at the Pentagon, tasked with critical planning and policies. Every reason in the world to be positive-minded, except that he wasn't.

Yup, he had to admit this struggle for sobriety was the first time in his life, Jared Booth couldn't fall back on natural ability to gain success. He was having to gut out each day, hour by hour, arguing with himself over long-term happiness versus short-term satisfaction to avoid taking another drink.

Max found him an hour later, slouched on the broad steps of Seel's and Tempe's back porch, staring out at the trees beyond their vegetable garden. Having come by to start lunch for Booth's brother, the older man had watched him from the kitchen window, pondering how to help the guy as he sliced tomatoes, spread mayonnaise, and stacked ham. Teaching high school in Ohio and mentoring apprentice electricians in Oregon, had given Max some hard-won insight into psychology. He knew a thing or two about motivating young men. Once the sandwiches were assembled, lemonade stirred, and table set, Brennan's father pulled out his phone and googled a few history sites to make sure his facts were straight before approaching Jared for a conversation he hoped would be beneficial. Max was aware of Edwin Booth's alcoholism, and had experienced his own father's drinking binges and screaming rants as a kid. He remembered how worthless and contrite his dad had felt afterwards.

He opened the back door and spoke to Jared.

"Lunch is ready, Sport. Come on in and eat. You look like you could do with some food."

Jared turned around, shook his head like a wet dog, and nodded. "Those exercises kicked my butt today' worse than usual; not sure why."

He stood up, stretched, and entered the kitchen. Sitting down, he thanked Max for his work.

"This looks good. Ya know, I can fix myself lunch from now on. No need for you to drive over here any more, Max, not that I don't appreciate it."

"Oh, I kinda enjoy it, always hated eating alone, and I've had to do it for too many years to pass up the chance for company while I chew."

Jared sat down, reached for a potato chip, and agreed. "Yeah, I've had to do that a lot in the last few months, too. Ever since Padme, my wife, gave me the heave-ho out of our apartment."

"Couldn't help notice you seem rather down in the dumps. I know staying sober is a tough gig," Max said. "My old man was an alcoholic. Used to yell and whack us as kids for no reason. He had to go through court-ordered sobriety sessions when I was a teenager, after trashing a farmer's produce stand at an open-air market one Saturday when he drove straight through the stalls. He was lucky no one was injured except a few apple crates. If he'd struck anyone, would have landed in jail. As a result, I never even tried beer. Didn't want to know what stunts it might lead me to pull. I've caused plenty of trouble in other ways, as you know, but not from alcohol. Both my granny and momma said to leave it alone."

Jared looked at him in surprise. "Tempe certainly can hold her liquor; better than any other woman I've met."

"Well, the men in our family; not so much," Max said wryly. "Several generations back, apparently."

"You know, Jared, I'm aware of your father's history of drinking and PTSD. The awful things service men his age had to do and saw in Vietnam didn't help any, but I daresay he wasn't the first in your family to have issues with booze. You might not have heard this interesting fact, but I not only taught high school science at one time, I also taught U.S. History to three freshmen classes a day for several years. Always found history fascinating and so I know a bit about your family tree, if you'd care to indulge me by listening a while."

"Sure, Max, I've got nothing better scheduled this afternoon," Jared replied, curious where this conversation was headed.

"Obviously, you know one of your ancestral uncles was John Wilkes Booth," Max began.

"Oh, yeah, that bugged me all the way through school; every time Lincoln's assassination was covered in class," Jared said sourly.

"Well, you might find a few more facts interesting. A year before the assassination, John's older brother saved Lincoln's son Robert's life when the young man lost his balance and slipped off a train station platform in New York. Edwin Booth grabbed his coat collar and pulled the President's son to safety. Robert recognized and thanked the well-known Shakespearean actor. "

"Edwin was also the manager of a successful theater in New York and fought to overcome the alcoholic addiction of his father Junius. Known as the 'greatest actor on the American stage, the senior Booth was a habitual alcoholic whose drinking caused all sorts of problems during his performances. He'd forget lines, mess up scenes. He once ran up a ladder in the middle of _Hamlet_ , sat amid the props, and crowed like a rooster. Later in _Richard III_ , he fought too aggressively during a duel on stage and the other actor had to flee to safety," Max continued.

"While appearing in _Othello_ , Junius Booth almost suffocated an actress with a pillow before other performers rescued her. His manager would lock his hotel rooms but he'd slip out to a tavern or bribe stage hands to bring him whiskey. One story relates that he threaded a straw through a keyhole to drink from a bottle of booze. Once, while intoxicated, he attacked a good friend who broke his nose in self-defense. Some of his children shared his alcoholic tendencies and violent nature. John Wilkes Booth loved whiskey so much he called his flask 'his best friend', and the guy was as impetuous as they come," the old con man declared.

Jared listened in stunned amazement to Max's history recitation.

"Now, I'm not telling you all this to make you feel sorry for yourself. Jared. Every person on this earth is responsible for their own actions. Your grandfather Hank was not an alcoholic. But it does seem that alcohol has had a siren call for the Booth family back several generations, so it's not surprising this struggle to avoid drinking is really tough for you."

"I'm not sure my revelations motivate or discourage you, but I thought you might feel better knowing you're not the only one going through this. I know Booth fights very hard not to gamble, and he's been mostly successful, but Tempe says he's always on guard not to succumb. They'd both likely scalp me for telling you that, but well-informed is best armed in my book," Max finished.

"Thanks for telling me that, Max. Surprisingly, it does make me feel better," Jared replied. "And rest assured, I'll keep what you said to myself. Riling up my brother and Tempe is never a good idea."

"Well, enough heavy talk for one day. Since this is February 12th, what do you say we split an apple pie before your family gets home? I happen to know that Old Abe _loved_ fresh apple pie better than any other dessert, so we can call this a birthday celebration in his honor. I bought that and a gallon of vanilla ice cream on my way over here this morning."

"I'm not sure I can finish off half of a pie, but it sure sounds good to me!" Jared agreed. "Thanks for sharing the pie a'la mode and history lesson with me, Max; I bet you were a helluva popular teacher! Way more interesting than any of the old fogeys I got stuck with back in Philly, I'll tell you that."


	4. Chapter 4

Susan B Anthony Day

Anna-Susan Carmichael smiled to herself as she clicked off the small wall-mounted television in her bedroom, slid down until her head rested on the pillows she'd been leaning against, and pulled the down comforters over her shoulders. Yawning as sleep began overtaking her thoughts, she wondered what her namesake great-great aunt might think of the day's Women's March. She had greatly enjoyed meeting Dr. Temperance Brennan, whose speech preceded hers. Quite a remarkable scientist! The pair had enjoyed a stimulating conversation at the post-March reception that left Anna-Susan wishing to know Dr. Brennan better. Not to mention her cadre of friends, interns, and impressive scientist associates! The group seemed more like a family than a working team of highly-skilled expert professionals. Before parting ways, she had requested Dr. Brennan's contact information to stay in touch.

Among coroners, Dr. Saroyan was every bit as renowned and qualified as Brennan in anthropology, Mrs. Hodgins-Montenegro was not only a talented artist but a savvy IT analyst as well. She knew the Jeffersonian only hosted top interns for their doctoral dissertation programs. Close relationships among colleagues provided optimal working environments yet most female employees nipped and sniped at each other. But these women genuinely liked one another, and it showed in the case results they achieved despite a continually-heavy case load. She wished her co-workers and she could share such a bond.

Had such a women's march been held in the early 1850's, the participants might have worn bloomer dresses instead of pink knitted hats. First touted in the October 1849 issue of the _Water-Cure Journal_ as a healthier mode of dress for women than currently fashionable heavy floor length skirts, numerous of starched petticoats, and organ-compressing whale-bone corsets. It quoted one medical professor who declared that female cadavers were useless for anatomical studies if the lady had worn corsets during her lifetime, so deformed and misplaced were the internal organs from years of such unnatural constriction.

An early health reformer Mary Nichols had written and gathered signatures endorsing a declaration of independence from despotic fashion trends. Lowell Massachusetts textile mill owners had thrown a dinner party for their female employees who chose to wear the safer dress in their factories. Her previously straight-laced Quaker ancestor Susan B Anthony and other female suffrage advocates had adopted the style, calling it their 'freedom dress' as a symbol of women's rights. The trend only lasted a few years, but it foreshadowed the white garb later worn during early 20th century suffrage marches.

Growing up, Anna-Susan was greatly pleased any time her famous forebearer was recognized for her seminal emancipation work, especially when a stamp bearing her likeness was published, and a very useful dollar coin, the first to depict a woman, was minted. It had taken long enough; and enormous personal effort. At 16, she had called for integrated schools, businesses, and churches; collecting petitions against slavery in 1837. When Susan first began fomenting for feminine rights, the public accused her of seeking to destroy marriage. How untrue! As the second oldest of seven children, her great-great aunt loved her reform-minded family, siblings, parents, her classroom and young students. But she advocated for lenient divorce laws, in cases of abandonment or abuse; and believed that fathers should no more own and control their wives and children than slaves.

Anna-Susan knew that the earlier Susan had met Elizabeth Cady Stanton, an 1848 Seneca Falls Convention leader who had promoted its controversial women's suffrage resolution. While Stanton was brainy and excelled at writing, Anthony was a born organizer. Lizzie Stanton was saddled with the care of her seven children; Susan was unmarried, unencumbered, and ready to travel. She watched the Stanton kids while their mother wrote, becoming a second mother to them. Mr. Stanton once declared, "Susan stirred the puddings, Elizabeth stirred up Susan, and then Susan stirs up the world!" Talking about her friend, his wife added, "I forged the thunderbolts, she fired them." A room for her was included in every house the Stantons occupied.

Between the two of them, these ladies' collaborative efforts advanced women's rights more effectively than in any other area of the country. In 1878, they formulated a Constitutional amendment granting women the vote. After Senator Aaron Sargent of California presented it on the chamber floor, it was dubbed the 'Susan B Anthony Amendment' and she had high hopes for its timely passage. A few years earlier in 1872, Anthony had expected imprisonment for refusing to pay a fine when she was arrested and convicted for voting in Rochester, but New York government officials in her hometown gave her a bye. _Perhaps the tide of exclusion was turning_ , she'd thought. But it would take until 1920 for ratification to be achieved. Sadly, too many reformers felt that slavery must be abolished before suffrage could be their focus. _Short-sighted fools!_ "The Men, even the best of them, seem to think the women's Rights question should be waived for the present. So let us do our own work, and in our own way."

She was aghast in 1865 when a proposed amendment giving African Americans citizenship, but only the men. Anthony agreed with Stanton's opinion that "if that word 'male' be inserted, it will take us a century at least to get it out!" A.S. thought ruefully that her great-great aunt's friend wasn't far off in her assessment. Avoiding marriage made Susan B Anthony a valuable asset to the suffrage movement, since she could sign business contracts, earn fees for her 75-100 public speaking engagements each year, and travel freely. She was a skilled fund-raiser, who lived simply and sought no personal gain, gaining admiration from even those who disliked her objectives. A.S. was delighted to learn that a 1913 _Life Magazine_ cover depicted Susan B Anthony in Greco-Roman attire leading a suffrage protest. She stashed so many books in her sister's attic, their weight threatened the house. Her birthday, February 15th has been observed as a Wisconsin suffrage-observance state holiday since 1976, but taking it national never gained traction.

The Women's March was a continuation of her ancestor's crusade, and while the Quaker-raised octogenarian might not have completely approved of some current participants' attire, Anna-Susan sleepily decided her great-great aunt would have heartily endorsed its outspoken atmosphere. And very likely donned a pink knitted cap over her neatly-wound bun as well.

Anna-Susan smiled at what a sight that would be. She reached for a datebook and pen she kept on her bedside table, and scribbled herself a reminder before nodding off to invite Temperance Brennan and her friends for lunch in the coming weeks.


	5. Chapter 5

A Booth's Been Had

Booth received a call from the Willow River administrator Ellen Farmer, who he'd come to know and like very well during the 6 years Pops had lived at the retirement center. She was normally a calm cheerful person, but he could tell from the tone of her voice that all was not well with his grandfather. Worried that Pops' health had taken a turn for the worse, he listened intently but impatiently for her to continue the conversation.

"You know we enjoy encouraging our residents to keep in touch with their families, and assist them when we can. I was so pleased that Hank agreed to let you add him to your family cell phone plan. He loves talking with Parker whenever he likes".

"But this morning, he apparently received an odd phone call which really upset him. The caller was sobbing and very distraught, had exclaimed, "Pops, It's me, Jared! I need you to post bail for me! I'm in jail, arrested for drug possession and drunk driving! They say they found cocaine in my car; I swear it isn't mine, but I need help with bail money. Please!"

Ellen continued, "The call had rapidly switched to an officer, who described the mess and readily gave his badge number upon Hank's inquiry, then transferred him to a DEA agent who indicated they were going to give Jared a plea deal to forego prosecution if he agreed to testify against his passenger, since his drug test was clean and none of his fingerprints were found on the illicit packages."

"The passenger, who had shown the cops a fake ID, was being extradited out of state for prosecution on production, distribution, and trafficking charges. But Jared had to sign a non-disclosure agreement and post bail before his video testimony. Failure to comply with any of this would result in his incarceration and going to trial," the administrator told Booth.

"The call then went to a bailiff who described an agreement the government had with various merchants for family members to purchase gift cards, relay the card numbers and PINs, so that bail funds could be transmitted, and once Jared's testimony was filmed, Hank would receive a certified refund check. After Jared's previous parole, the bailiff explained, he was sure a caring grandparent wouldn't risk the young man's being charged with further crimes. And he added that Hank would need to respect the NDA as well, not telling anyone of the situation," she said.

"His heart racing and blood pressure spiking from all this bad news, Pops had informed the bailiff he no longer drove, stressing out over how to obtain the gift cards. The bailiff assured him he could act as a proxy, if Hank would supply him with his credit card details. The senior Booth readily agreed to this solution to Jared's dire predicament. A half-hour later, the bailiff called back, assuring Hank his intervention was successful; that Jared's testimony was being taped as they spoke."

Booth listened in stupefied silence, aghast at what he was hearing.

Ellen took a deep breath. "But the worst of this, Seeley, is that Jared is fine. When Sharon took Hank's blood pressure at lunch; before dispensing his blood pressure meds, his readings were so elevated, she came to me, very worried. After repeated questioning, we finally prevailed upon Hank to explain what had upset him this much. Your grandfather choked back his tears and told us about the phone calls. But he was still very distraught."

"We called your brother to alleviate Hank's fears. Fortunately your brother is fine. Unfortunately, your granddad was duped; he fell for a scam. The imposters kept him on the phone for nearly two hours, giving him no time to think, and kept preying on his concern for Jared's welfare! I regret ever encouraging him to use that cell phone you bought him. If he'd only answered yours or Jared's phone calls, this would never have happened."

"We have called the Philadelphia police, and his credit card company, and they're doing what they can. But the gift cards have been drained, and tracking these fradulent purchases will take time. Some were online, fairly easy to block, but others were in the stores, and are much harder to cancel!"

"Apparently," Ellen sighed, "this type of 'grandparent' scam is all too common across the U.S. and has recently cropped up here in Philly. I'm so sorry we didn't catch this earlier. Your grandfather is completely coherent and cognizant of reality; we have no reason to monitor his calls."

Booth interrupted her. "Ellen, this isn't your fault; and not Pops' either. Scammers take advantage of older people, but they aren't the only segment of the population targeted by schemes to bilk them out of their money! How much money are we talkin'?"

"Six thousand dollars, Seeley; 'way more than Hank can absorb."

"Omigosh!" Booth gasped.

Ellen replied, "USAA seems very proactive. They've already issued Hank a replacement VISA with a different number, and promised their security and fraud team would initiate an investigation immediately. We filed a police report, which will also help, but the initial gift cards were used for online purchases, then traded in a return transaction for new cards, so the scammers' purchases may be tough to track. The Philly financial crimes detective said he'd do what he can as well, but they need to know in what city the purchases were made."

"Hank begged me not to call you; the poor guy is embarrassed and disgusted with himself. But it really isn't his fault. Maybe you and Temperance can visit him this weekend, and calm him down."

"I'll do you one better," Booth assured her. "One of my high school classmates is the deputy director of public safety in Bensalem. I'll call him to see what he suggests. You know Pops was a beat cop in Philly; if the captain of his old precinct hears that one of their veterans has been scammed; that'll get special attention from the investigations commander. Lemme see what I can find out and I'll keep you posted. Thank so much for informing me, Ellen. I don't know what we'd do without you and the Willow River staff keeping an eye on Pops. And you're right about USAA; they do an exceptional job of protecting the financial interests of servicemembers."

"I'm glad you're not angry, and so sorry this happened. Maybe call Hank when you have time to day. He's lucky to have concerned family like you and Temperance."

"Shall do, Ellen; I'll call him after dinner. Take care of yourself."

 **A/N: Booth is keenly aware of how much Pops has always done for him, and his relationship with his grandfather is one of the most significant in his life. Date-wise, this chapter is a bit out of sync with the current February challenge. I haven't found a Scam Awareness event in the U.S. but** **Australia observes National Scams Awareness Week at the end of May, and I** **nternational** _ **Fraud Awareness**_ **Week occurs in November.** **But since this just happened to a close family friend, I thought it wise to call attention to such illegal phone schemes, so readers can protect themselves and others.**


	6. Chapter 6

Presidents' Day

Booth swung the big black SUV into their driveway, turned off the ignition, and hopped out of his seat before Christine could attempt unbuckling her safety straps. He opened the vehicle's back door, and leaned in to release her from the booster seat. All the way home after school pick-up, he had listened to her happy chatter about her class's preparation for Presidents' Day. While her father was glad for the day off, Booth personally disliked the fact that two of his heroes' birthdays had been combined into one rather generic federal holiday. In his mind, both great men deserved to have their historic contributions to America celebrated separately. Had he been in charge of Congress, the country's business would have come to a halt on both February 12th and February 22nd, so that grateful citizens could remember George and Old Abe individually. Who didn't enjoy an extra day off from work?

As a child, Booth always enjoyed the month of February in school; tracing silhouettes of Washington and Lincoln onto black construction paper and cutting them out with painstaking care to paste on a colored page for display around the classroom. His teacher had chuckled at how many kids she observed using their scissors with such intense concentration that their tongues stuck out of their mouths. She had stopped the class, asked her students to count those with tongues out, and then conducted an impromptu math lesson on fractions right in the middle of art class; comparing tongues out to total number of kids in Section 3-7.

Afterwards, she related a fascinatingly gruesome story from her own youth. Her grandparents had taken her to an ice cream parlor, bought her a chocolate one dip cone, and sat down on the benches that lined the walls to enjoy their treats. Being very careful not to let the ice cream drip, the future teacher had relished licking that chilled chocolate goodness. The benches were painted with very shiny high-gloss black paint, which she completely ignored until….Being a very independent three-year –old, she had decided to hop down from the bench on her own.

It was a hot humid day in Gulfport, Mississippi and this ice cream parlor lacked air-conditioners. Under her sundress, perspiration had made her sweaty little legs stick to the glossy surface of the bench. Instead of hopping off and landing on her feet, Miss Melanie Henderson had landed flat on her face. As if this indignity wasn't enough, her sharp little teeth had cut through her tongue. Blood went everywhere, soaking her favorite rag doll Sally.

As Grampy picked her up, clucking with sympathy; licensed nurse Grammy Anne had quickly grabbed a handful of paper napkins to staunch the bleeding. Sitting with a mouthful of paper, 3 year old Melllie paid absolutely no attention to the old lady's gentle chiding that little girls should lick daintily to avoid such injuries. Once back home with her Momma and Daddy, she spent the rest of the afternoon with ice cubes pressed to her tongue.

The day's greatest tragedy was that her beloved ragdoll Sally had to be thrown away just like the Velveteen Rabbit when his young master had scarlet fever. The little girls in Miss Henderson's class sighed in unison at this very sad part of their teacher's story. Thereafter, Booth and his classmates were all much more careful about where their tongues were.

Shaking his head at this random memory, Booth picked up Christine's Frozen backpack and followed his small daughter into the house. She ran into the kitchen, grabbed an apple wedge from the refrigerator, and continued talking non-stop, regaling her mother with more of the school day's activities. Their classroom was now decked out with a row of Presidential portraits taped all along the top of the white board that lined three walls.

Here was another loss from the past, Booth thought. What was wrong with green or black chalkboards? Some of his most satisfying moments at school had been spent outside on the playground clapping erasers together to clean them for his teachers. Banging felt erasers against each other was a very socially acceptable way for a little boy to vent his frustrations. Especially when it was NOT permissible to talk about what happened when his father became angry at home.

As Brennan stirred the green beans, checked her pasta sauce, and directed Christine to set the table, Booth stepped over to kiss her soundly. She looked into his eyes, questioning silently if his day had gone all right. Their talent for wordless conversations came in handy around the kids. Baby Hank pounded enthusiastically on his high chair tray, each tiny fist full of whole grain oat Cheerios.

Booth picked up his chunky little boy, swung him high overhead, and planted kisses on top of his head. His youngest shared Parker's brown eyes, but his curly hair was dark. Hank jabbered happily and slobbered a kiss on his father's nose. Booth hoisted him over his head onto his shoulders and headed for the bedroom to change clothes before dinner. As he plopped the baby in the middle of their king bed, Hank chortled with delight. Loosening his tie, unbuttoning a still crisp dress shirt, and stepping out of dark gray wool slacks, Booth happily donned a well-worn Flyers t-shirt and his favorite jeans, happy that his clothes hadn't suffered from chasing a bad guy today. His dry cleaning bill surely kept the La Mode Laundry proprietor in business, removing grass stains and other frequent damage from pursuing criminals.

Once his sore feet were ensconced in comfortable LL Bean fleece-lined leather slippers, Booth rescued Hank from the edge of the bed and returned to the kitchen for dinner. As he sank into his chair, he marveled at this life he shared with his Bones; so much better than the future he'd once envisioned.

 **A/N: This tumble from an ice cream parlor bench happened to me at age 3, and I lost my favorite rag doll Sally my expert seamstress grandmother had made for me.**


End file.
